


Arya Addams, the Wolf of Cemetary Ridge

by Sharinarra



Series: Partial stories and very very infrequently updated W.I.Ps [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Addams Family - All Media Types, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 17:10:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharinarra/pseuds/Sharinarra
Summary: Arya Stark meets the Addams Family





	Arya Addams, the Wolf of Cemetary Ridge

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure where this cme from, but I really like the concept.   
Basic plot is Arya learning to fight and live as an Addams, with possible pairing up with Wednesday later on.  
Vague ideas of a sequel/companion piece where Arya returns to Westeros with the family in tow, and the Seven Kingdoms never know what hit them.

### Arya Addams - The Wolf of Cemetery Ridge

It was a positively gloomy evening, one dour and damp night in May on Cemetery Ridge. The fog rolled out of the swamp in thick clumps, hanging over the gravestones like miserable blankets clinging to the edges of beds. 

It was, reflected the matriarch of the House that loomed on the edge of the titular ridge, absolutely perfect. Smiling to herself, Morticia Addams swept down the hallway to her husbands study, where she could hear the tell tale sounds of Gomez Addams enthusiastically encouraging their children in their regular evening bonding activities.

“That’s it Wednesday! Make sure the loop is good and tight or he might not properly hang himself while trying to escape! Are you paying attention to this Pugsley?”

Opening the door, she found Pugsley strung up from the ceiling, one foot barely touching a stool, rope thick about his round form, and her darling Wednesday fiddling with the noose that was cleverly tied in to the main bonds in such a way that any movement would cause it to tighten around his neck.

“Oh, darling” she breathed to her maniacally grinning husband “it’s so wonderful to see them playing so nicely together.”  
From his position in the ropes, Pugsley waved as best he could, a grin on his face almost as big as his father’s. Wednesday pulled the noose tighter.

Outside, there came a crash of thunder as lightning lit the sky.

“Odd. There was no sign of a storm two minutes ago” mused Morticia, gliding to the windows to look up at the suddenly thick, looming clouds that held no hint of rain or movement. 

Another flash of lightning lit the sky, etching eldritch shapes upon the clouds.   
Out in the swamp, a column of flame shot up from now roiling ground, bathing the murky waters and sodden islands in fiendish reds and oranges.

“Oh, how lovely! Gomez, children, get your things. We’re going for a picnic in the swamp.”

“Cara Mia” came the lustful reply from her darling husband “what a hellish idea!”

Wednesday pushed the stool from under her brother’s precariously balanced foot. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In another world, far from the thoughts and knowledge of even the most twisted magical minds of the Addams Clan, a host of men were slaughtered in their cups at a wedding. A King was betrayed, his pregnant wife murdered before his eyes. 

And his sister arrived in the midst of blood and fire to the sight of his body - desecrated and defiled - being paraded by the jeering soldiers of a man who had claimed to be an ally.

It is a simple fact well known in Westeros that the blood of the Starks is blood of the First Men. What people generally don’t realise is just exactly what that means. Tales of magic, of skinchangers, greenseers and wargs, of power borne from blood and sacrifice… all of that is just an old story. Made up, like the Children of the Forest and the White Walkers. Everyone knows that.

Common knowledge is very rarely right.

Blood of Family, freshly spilled before her.  
Her brothers body and his familiars head merged as one in grotesque mockery.

One very angry, vengeful girl; baptised in blood; battered and hardened by death and the harsh truth of her world in chaos and war.   
A girl with magic in her blood. A girl with the wrath of a deep winter storm etched in her heart.   
A girl with the stubborn and sharp edged will to do anything for her family.

Arya Stark screamed, and the voices of her ancestors screamed with her.  
In answer, a dreadful howl sounded; impossibly far away, yet ripping from her own throat at one and the same time. 

Arya Stark howled, and in her minds eye she saw wolf packs up and down the lands leap upon any man they came across who wore the red and gold of Lannister, or the twin castle of the Freys. And she exalted in their deaths. 

Deaths which fed back the ancient power of blood and sacrifice.

The torches of the Twins - stronghold of House Frey for centuries - flared into impossible size, and the castle burned. 

Half mad with grief, blinded by vengeance, controlled by the magic that flooded through her in a crashing, devouring wave that swept out from the small body at the center of a maelstrom of power; in that moment, all that Arya Stark could think of was the longing to join the wolves and savage all who threatened her pack. The desperate need to escape this hellish world. 

The magic granted her wish, tearing holes through space and time in its raw and feral state. And then everything stopped. 

The fires faded back to natural proportions.  
Wolves turned and fled back into the wilds, leaving dead and mutilated soldiers behind them.  
The Crossing sat in ruined state, inhabited only by the dead. A mystery to strike fear and uncertainty in the hearts of all who beheld it or heard of its fate.

And nobody would see or hear from the girl known as Arya Stark for years to come. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wednesday Addams bounded through the mists and fires of the swamp, revelling in the oppressive sensations washing over her like waves from a single point deep in the center, where she knew that the ritual stones of Great Aunt Calpurnia stood. 

The fires and the storm that battered them had swept up out of nowhere, and she could feel the oldest of magics singing in her blood in response to whatever was happening. It was absolutely delicious, and nothing would do but to reach the stones and see the source for herself.  
Smiling ever so slightly, she bounded on.

Deep in the center of the swamp, a great stone monolith rose above the cowering sister stones that ringed it. Sides stained with the blood of sacrifices past and rough hewn steps to the peak that were weathered by the ages, it was a focal point of old magics rooted deep within the earth and life. Last used to full potential by the then teenage witch Calpurnia Addams, it resonated now with a power that spanned worlds and had found in its ancient nexus an anchoring point.

Wednesday neared the ancient stones, finding it harder and harder to press forward into the now solid wave of power.

Reality warped.

The air within the circle of stones became a maelstrom of destruction, tearing up the ground beneath them, as the flattened peak of the monolith flared with a twisting firelight that outlined a strange figure. 

Then, everything stopped. 

Lowering her arm from its raised position across her face, Wednesday ran forward, clambering up the stone steps with the ease of long practise. Reaching the top, she looked down to see a girl of about her own age, with fingers that ended in claws, short hewn hair that pressed tightly to her skin and melded into fur that covered her body, and the ears of a wolf perched atop her slightly misshapen head. Reaching to the jaws that jutted out in small imitation of a canine muzzle, she pulled down one lip to see fangs, then lifted an eyelid to reveal eyes of amber with streaks of grey haloing the pupil. 

The girl jerked awake, falling backwards off the monolith as she did so, and leaving long gouges in the rock from her claws as instinct kicked in to save her from the fall. 

She landed on the ground and ran into the night, howling in anguish.

Wednesday watched gleefully, then bounced back down to the ground, chasing after the wonderful new friend she had found. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
